Because he’s a gentleman and I’m food-obsessed, C treated me to dinner on Sunday at Copper Hog’s industry night. I’ve eaten there several times before and each time I get stuck on the menu for far too long, lingering in between guiltier pub snacks (fish and chips? Bangers and mash? I WANT, I WANT) and more refined/adultish meals (salmon with blueberry reduction? Poke sushi? YES YES YES PLEASE). At least twice before I’ve settled on the shepard’s pie because
a. It’s comfort food
b. I’m too lazy to make it at home
c. It’s a pile of fucking MEAT topped with MASHED POTATOES and MELTY SHARP CHEDDAR. What could go wrong!? The answer is absolutely nothing. Obviously.
So I forewent the other options and went for my old standby, which was no mistake.
C, on the other hand, chose one of my absolute most favorite meals in the history of the universe, braised short ribs. I don’t really know why I didn’t order them, but after one bite of his meal I was skeptically reconsidering my menu choice. The ribs were braised in some sort of root beer and barbeque mixture which left them sweet and tangy, with this killer flaky-but-still-melts-in-your-mouth texture. Which, theoretically is what all braised short ribs are supposed to do, but one time when I was trying to make them for the first time I was all, hey, I don’t have any red wine, I’ll just use red wine vinegar! And I also don’t have the time to really let them braise. OH WELL. Yeah, well, those ribs were pretty weird. Dry. And vinegary. And weird. NEVER AGAIN! C’s ribs came with a side of garlic mashed potatoes and a grilled peach, which, SERIOUSLY, pulled the whole thing together.
Now it’s cold and drizzly out and my cat has abandoned my house and not returned for two days, leaving me in serious need of some comfort food.
Sidenote to my cat: Seriously, Oskar. Why did you stop loving me? Was it because I let my friends toss you from one side of the living room to another? I SWEAR I HAD HARDLY ANY SAY IN THE MATTER. All I want is for you to come home so I can give you treats and clean the goop out of your eyes and smother you in kisses. Remember when you were alone in a cage on the floor of the pound and you had no friends? Remember how Riley helped me find you and I took you home immediately, showered you in food and toy mice and cat toys you really had no interest in? Remember how you used to purr behind my kneecaps, asleep in my bed every night? Honestly, that wet cat food that I’M SURE you’ve been bribed with isn’t worth it! They can’t love you like I do! Come hoooooome! Gah!
Ok, whoa. Sorry. I miss my cat and I’m feeling emotional. Anyhow. Tonight’s menu is Umbrian fish stew with sourdough. Warm and thick and combative of this terrible weather and my perpetual frown.